


The Grey Area

by LifeInkognito



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-02-16 20:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13061259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeInkognito/pseuds/LifeInkognito
Summary: In the months following Homecoming, Peter strives to find the right balance between his two identities, and Tony grapples with what kind of presence he should have in this overeager, trouble-making, danger-prone fifteen-year-old's life.





	1. Part 1

Peter is operating in the grey area. Or, at least, that’s the plan.

 

When Mr. Stark first urged Peter to keep his activities limited to the tiny window between “What Would Iron Man Do” and “What Would Iron Man  _ Definitely Not _ Do,” he’ll admit he didn’t get it. But ever since the Vulture takedown (followed by the arguably worse takedown Peter received from May after she discovered him in a multi-million-dollar unitard), Mr. Stark’s advice has been taking on a new meaning for him.

 

He wants to do better for May, for Ned, for the Decathlon team, and yeah, for Iron Man and the Avengers. He made a choice when he walked away from Mr. Stark’s generous offer—and that insanely awesome hi-tech suit—in the Avengers compound. He’s not going to stop being Spiderman, but he can’t give up on being Peter Parker either. He needs to be something in between. 

 

And for the first few weeks, it actually goes pretty well. Peter hovers in the grey area between his two lives, not letting either one of them fall completely to the wayside. In the mornings he sits at the kitchen table with May and polishes off his entire plate of semi-appetizing breakfast. At school he turns in his completed (albeit, hastily done) homework assignments. He shows up for Decathlon practices and makes flashcards with the team. On the way home he debates the latest reddit fan theories about Star Wars with Ned. And in the evenings, he dons the suit, and Spiderman swings through the boroughs thwarting crime. Just small-timer stuff, nothing life-threatening that May or Happy or Mr. Stark would get worried about. After all, he’s not an Avenger—he definitely closed the door on that option—and as Mr. Stark likes to remind him, there are other people who can handle the big stuff.

 

It’s working out, everyone’s happier, and Peter feels like he’s finally making progress. He hasn’t gotten stabbed, shot at, or trapped beneath a collapsed building in weeks. May’s starting to loosen up on him too—and she’s even mentioned the possibility of extending his patrol curfew by another hour. Maybe if he keeps it up, the trust between them could even build itself back to something that resembles their relationship pre-spider-bite. 

 

It's a delicate balance. And that should be Peter’s first clue that he won't be able to keep it up for long. 

 

***

 

The next Decathlon competition is an hour-long bus ride away in New Jersey. The team is still settling into its new rhythm since Liz’s abrupt and dramatic departure. Michelle is working everyone hard, not giving them a chance to fall off their game after their victory in D.C. She paces up and down the school bus aisle, firing off questions at random. 

 

“Okay, Parker. According to the modern synthesis, a change in allele frequencies in a population is called…”

 

“Evolution,” Peter answers easily.

 

“Correct.” Michelle nods in approval. “Good to have you back, loser.”

 

Peter quirks up his lip in a half-grin and is about to say thanks, but Michelle has already moved on to grilling Flash about the theory of punctuated equilibrium.

 

Peter’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, reading the text on the cracked screen:  _ You’re leaving NY. Everything good?   _

 

Crap, he forgot to mention the field trip to Happy. Ever since Peter turned down the offer to become an Avenger, Mr. Stark hasn’t reached out directly, but Happy is still keeping tabs on him. Peter stifles a sigh. Clearly, Mr. Stark thinks he’s going to screw up again and split another ferry in half.

 

He texts a quick reply: _ Sry. Decathlon meet in NJ. Home by 7.  _

 

A few seconds later, Happy sends back a thumbs-up emoji. Since the Vulture incident, their communications have stayed brief, but more cordial. Maybe because Happy’s starting to come around to liking him. Or—way more likely—because Peter saved Happy’s career in asset management.

 

At the competition in Jersey, Midtown High steals another narrow win. Michelle allows them all of fifteen minutes to celebrate, passing the trophy around amongst themselves to take selfies with it, before she snaps back into captain-mode.

 

“Great job, guys. Let’s not get cocky though,” she says, sounding an awful lot like someone who genuinely cares. “That was too close.”

 

“Oh come on!” Flash whines. “You call that close? We demolished those guys. Did you see the looks on their faces? They were about to piss themselves.”

 

Michelle smirks. “Pretty sure that’s because we’re an AcaDeca urban legend now.”

 

Ned nudges Peter’s arm and proclaims, “Hell yeah, we’re the team that defeated death!” which earns a few cheers and whoops from the group.

 

“We’re gonna be the team that straight-up gets defeated if we don’t kick it up another notch,” Michelle deadpans. “I’m calling another practice after school on Tuesday.”

 

Everyone groans but accepts Michelle’s mandate without complaint. 

 

“A harsh but just ruler,” Ned whispers jokingly, getting in line in front of Peter to get back on the bus.

 

Peter grins, and is about to follow Ned up the stairs when Michelle taps his shoulder.

 

“Hey,” she says, nodding at him with hooded eyes that are somehow both probing and disinterested at the same time. “Got a second?”

 

Peter shoves his hands into his pockets, trying to hide his sudden rush of nerves. Michelle’s both insanely observant and insanely hard to read, and it always makes him feel on-edge. “Yeah. What’s up?”

 

“You’re distracted,” she says bluntly.  “You answered that question about linkage disequilibrium right dozens of times in practice. You choked, and it lost us a point. That's not like you.” Her brows furrow in an expression that could either be annoyed or concerned. “So… you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

 

Peter knows she’s just doing her job as the team’s captain, knows she’s not intentionally trying to be a jerk—but damn it, being singled out for that one gaffe he made during the competition stings.

 

“Sorry,” Peter says, turning his face back towards the bus so she can’t read the embarrassment on his face. “You’re right. I messed up. I’ll trained harder.”

 

“You don’t need to train harder,” Michelle says, taking him off guard. She leans in closer, and Peter has to stop himself from shrinking back. “Don’t repeat this, got it? It’s bad for team building.” she says in a low voice. He can smell the cinnamon gum she’s been chewing. “You’re the smartest guy here, and everyone knows it. If you’re not bringing your A-game, it brings the whole team down.” 

 

“Look... Michelle, I’ve got a lot—”

 

She cuts him off. “Yeah yeah, I know you’re dealing with…  _ something _ . And I can’t force you to tell me what it is.” She pauses briefly, like she’s waiting for him to interject. But Peter doesn’t know what he could possibly say, so he lets her continue. “After everything with Liz, we can’t take another hit to the team. So if you’re back, it’s got to be one-hundred percent. Or you’re out. I’m sorry.”

 

Peter blinks at her, disbelieving. This is just what he needs—more guilt, more responsibility thrown into his lap.  _ It was just a dumb question _ , Peter wants to yell at her.  _ It’s just a high school club. _ Sure, for some of these guys, an AcaDeca championship is their ticket to Stanford or MIT or some equally prestigious university. But he’s got way more on his plate than worrying about college admissions. He’s light-years beyond that. He’s freaking Spiderman. 

 

But that’s not staying in the grey area, he reminds himself. Spiderman may not care about grades, but Peter Parker still needs this. He loves his team. He’s not ready to lose that right now. So he swallows his pride and gives Michelle a quick nod.  “Got it,” he says, and steps past her onto the school bus before she can get another word in.   

 

***

 

The next evening, May and Peter sit on the couch with plastic containers of take-out thai in their laps.  

 

“How about a movie?” May says, after slurping down the last of her udon. “Netflix put up that thing you and Ned keep talking about. The Vogue One.”

 

“Rogue One,” Peter corrects, smirking, because he knows May is messing the name up on purpose. He begged her for months to let him and Ned go to the midnight premiere on a school night. Then the grin slips off his face. “Oh, but, uh, you know, I already saw it like three times, so it’s fine. You can watch that baking show you like. I’ll go to my room and…”

 

Why is it still so hard to just tell May he’s going out to be Spiderman? She knows almost everything now. Peter only spared her the goriest details to keep her from worrying too much. That conversation had been one of the worst moments of his life. May freaked out, then Peter freaked out. May screamed, Peter screamed back. May started crying, Peter cried too. Uncle Ben used to say that May and Peter were telepathically linked, they were so attuned to each other’s emotions. And maybe  _ that’s  _ why it’s so difficult to talk about now, even though he knows May’s trying to be supportive. Peter knows what she’s going through—she’s hurt that he lied to her, helpless that she can’t stop him, terrified he’ll die out on the streets like her husband did—and yet, he’s still doing it, every night, even though he can see how much it pains her.

 

“Alright, I get it,” she says, keeping the tone light despite the elephant in the room. “Party’s over. You know, people used to think I was fun.”

 

“You’re the best,” Peter says earnestly, grabbing both of their empty food containers and heading into the kitchen to throw them away.

 

“Just keep your phone on.” May swivels around to look at him over the back of the couch. “I’m calling you on the hour, and if you don’t pick up—”

 

“I’ll pick up.”

 

“Okay, okay. Just… be careful. Nothing dangerous. Promise.”

 

“I promise,” Peter says, giving her what he hopes is a reassuring smile. She smiles back before grabbing the TV remote to start up Netflix. 

 

Peter knows what she’s doing. She’s trying to be supportive—so he won’t hide anything else from her. And she puts on a pretty good act, but he knows this is hurting her. His enhanced senses can hear her teeth grinding, fingers tapping against her thigh, her heart-rate elevated. 

 

And when he pries open his bedroom window and slips outside, he doesn’t hear anything at all. No noise from the television, no bare feet padding against the floor. Just May, sitting alone in the dark, and the faintest sounds of her breathing.

 

***

 

Midtown High’s daily news report now has a recurring segment on Spiderman’s activities. Every morning Betty Brant narrates over a hastily edited compilation of YouTube videos featuring the school’s favorite hero. 

 

“Local vigilante ‘the spider man’ was spotted in Queens again last night, this time on the 7 train platform at 46th street,” Betty’s voice announces as grainy cell-phone footage plays on a loop—a streak of red and blue whirling past, dangling precariously from the back of a speeding train, and then suddenly dropping out of view. The camera shakes as the videographer runs to the edge of the platform and peers below, where Queen’s friendly neighborhood hero is lying in a dent on top of a parked Prius. (On the full YouTube clip, the video also includes the crackly audio of a decidedly unheroic scream.)

 

Peter’s face flushes a darker red than his costume’s mask as he watches the newsreel. In his defence, this was all the MTA’s fault. The 7 train wasn’t supposed to run express so late at night, so he hadn’t expected it to go flying past the station at 50 miles an hour when he’d shot his webbing at it to swing up onto the roof. Long story short, the train had taken him for a quick joy ride. When he managed to the sever the webline, the inertia sent him flying over the edge of the platform and onto the roof of a car. Then the car’s alarm went off, waking up half the block. The whole thing was humiliating enough on its own, but of course some random guy just had to catch the whole incident on his phone and post it online.

 

On screen, Betty appears with a microphone in hand. “Here at Midtown High, we’re asking you what you think of the spider man.”

 

The screen cuts to Sally Avril, standing next to her locker with a microphone being pushed up towards her face. “Uh, I don’t know. He’s kinda creepy I guess. If he’s just helping little old ladies and stopping bike thieves, why’s he gotta hide his face? None of the Avengers do.” 

 

Cut to Tiny McKeever, who Betty is chasing after as he walks out of the locker room in his football jersey. “Spiderman? The dude’s a boss. You see him stop the car in that video? That guy could kill you with just a punch I bet.”

 

Next is Laurie Lynton, sitting at a desk in the robotics club room. “I don’t know… I think he really means well, but like… it’s scary. That people like that can go unchecked. How can we trust he won’t hurt anyone? Isn’t that why they made the Accords?”

 

Peter slams his locker shut a little too forcefully, causing the whole row to shudder. A few people turn around in confusion.

 

“Don’t sweat it, man,” Ned says from behind him. Peter turns around, giving him a miserable expression. “Every hero gets some bad PR. Remember when that story came out about Tony Stark secretly running a child sweatshop? Or that Black Widow died and was replaced with a robot decoy? That would have been so cool. I mean, not the dying part, but the robot part. Like, if you could make a robot that looked human enough to...” 

 

Peter lets him ramble all the way to physics class. It helps, sort of. But deep down, he knows this isn’t just bad PR. This isn’t dumb gossip that will appear in the tabloids today and disappear tomorrow. There are people out there who don’t trust Spiderman—that are afraid of him. More than a few people.

 

And Peter doesn’t know how to fix that. He’s never hurt anyone before, not seriously. Not even the bad guys—he just webs them up for the police to deal with. And sure, he made a dent in that poor Toyota Prius last night when he crash-landed into it, but he’d done his best to pop the dent back out before he swung away. He’s never thought of himself as above the law. That’s part of why he always makes an effort to help people with even the smallest problems. Giving people directions, finding lost wallets, doing flips on command for the hot dog guy—that’s just part of being a good samaritan. That’s just being a decent human being.

 

But hearing those interviews… it’s reminds him that people don’t see him like that. Black Widow, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner—the public knows who they are, not just as heroes, but as real people. As long as Peter hides behind the mask, Spiderman will always be a threat.

 

It makes Peter think twice about his choice to turn down the Avengers. If he’d actually done it—said yes to Tony Stark, accepted that awesome suit, and walked into that press conference filled with real reporters—well, that would have been the end of his secret identity, but at least then he could be honest with everyone about his life. Not like now, with everyone thinking Peter Parker’s a flake and Spiderman’s a menace.

 

Honesty. That’s all people really want from him. 

 

But he can’t tell the truth without giving something up that he’s not ready to lose.


	2. Part 2

“I won’t tell you again, Stark.” Even over video-chat, Ross’s tone is cold enough to ice over a room. “If it’s discovered that you or any part of Stark industries has been impeding the search for Steve Rogers and his accomplices, you _ will _ be brought in on charges of—”

 

“Right, right, obstruction of justice, perjury, wearing white after labor day, the whole shebang. I hear you loud and clear, Mr. Secretary. And I repeat: I have no knowledge of their whereabouts.” Tony leans back in his chair, glancing past Ross’s illuminated face on the holoscreen. Just behind it, a nondescript old flip phone is sitting on the desk. “My expertise is limited to tech. Rogers is a World War II vet. He knows how to go underground without technology. I’d recommend you some old-fashioned spies for the job, but, you know, haven’t heard a peep from Clint or Nat lately either, so sorry—that’s my dead end, Thaddeus. Tad? Do people call you Tad? Because Thaddeus is a real mouthful.”

 

The Secretary ignores the diversion. “Someone will reach out inevitably. And when they do, I expect your full compliance in reporting their positions to the United States Government.”

 

The meeting mercifully comes to an end after that, and Tony leans back in his chair, breathing deeply to calm his nerves. He wasn’t lying to Ross. He’s heard nothing from Steve, Nat, or any of the others in months. He just hasn’t done anything to look for them either. He’d briefly toyed with the idea of finding a way to track them through the burner phone. But if that works, then he really  _ will _ be obstructing justice, because no way in hell is he reporting that information back to Ross. What the Secretary doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and Tony can say the same for himself. It’s best if he stands down for a while.

 

Besides, Tony’s long past the point where he’s admitted to himself that people are usually better off without his involvement. There’s a very short list of people he actually cares about, and every single one of them has gotten hurt because of his actions. Pepper was kidnapped and tortured. Happy was severely burned in a hospital bed for weeks. Rodey will never walk on his own again. Now his entire team is split in two and half of them are wanted criminals. Who hasn’t he had a chance screw up yet?

 

F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice speaks up from above him. “Boss, you have a new message from Happy Hogan, subject line: Underoos.”

 

Ah, right. The kid. His most recent failure. Tony entered Peter Parker’s life for just a few weeks and he managed to get the kid beat up by a war criminal in Berlin, trapped under a collapsed building, and thrown from a jet. 

 

Swallowing away the guilt, he pulls up Happy’s email on his Starkpad and glances over the highlights. It’s a typical status report: Spiderman helped a few confused tourists, walked a girl home who was being followed, saved an actual goddamn kitten from a tree, and on and on. Then comes the Peter Parker updates: the kid is back on his nerd quiz team and they won a competition in Jersey this week. His grades are slightly up. No new calls of complaint from Scary Aunt May. 

 

So, good. The kid is doing good.

 

Then something catches his eye.  _ New York Police Department reports Silver Toyota Prius, license plate number 6PG-33G5, parked beneath elevated 7-train line at 46th street and Queens Boulevard, vandalized at 12:13 a.m. with dent to roof. Suspect: Spider-man.  _

 

Huh, the kid’s reports don’t usually come with a rap sheet. Maybe this is part of that famous teenage-rebellion phase. Tony knows a thing or two about that; he destroyed a few cars in his youth. 

 

On a whim, he asks F.R.I.D.A.Y. to call Happy, who picks up on the second ring. “Heyya, Hap,” Tony drawls. “How’s the Spider-tyke doing?” 

 

“I just sent you an email about this five minutes ago,” Happy replies gruffly. 

 

“Yeah, and now we’re on the phone, so catch me up.”

 

“Why do you ask me to write the reports if you’re just gonna make me repeat everything? I spent time writing the report, I made bullet points—”

 

“Yeah, yeah, your Microsoft Suite skills are top of the line. Now I’m asking you. How’s he… you know, how’s he  _ doing _ ?”

 

Happy’s silent for a moment on the other end, and it’s enough to make Tony feel silly for asking. “Look, Tony, I don’t know. I just keep tabs on what you asked me to. I can’t be his pal. I don't feel comfortable stalking a fifteen-year-old.”

 

“Who said the word 'stalking'? Don't make it weird. He’s an asset, you’re managing him.” Tony stretches his arms above his head, trying to remember where he was even going with this phone call, because it’s derailing fast. “What’s with the police report? Doesn’t seem like the kid’s m.o.” 

 

“He took a tumble in a parking lot while in the suit. Some turd with a camera caught footage of Spiderman denting the car and it went viral. Police filed a report. I already took care of it, the charges are out the window. I wrote all this down in my email, you know.”

 

“Thanks, Hap, you’re a dream.” He flicks his wrist and F.R.I.D.A.Y. drops the call.

 

So it’s nothing, then. Tony shouldn’t give it another thought, but for some reason he does. “Fri, pull up the video Happy mentioned.”

 

The holo-screen on his Starkpad flickers back to life, playing a YouTube clip of one Peter Parker flinging himself off an elevated subway platform and into a car at what must be about 50 miles an hour, then getting right back up and swinging away looking none the worse for wear (albeit embarrassed as hell.) Damn, that kid is durable. 

 

It reminds Tony of the first time Spiderman popped up on his radar as a grainy video of a guy in pajamas stopping a speeding car. He’d seen the raw potential then—either as a future threat, or a major asset. He still hasn’t gotten the kid into a lab to properly test him, but Tony suspects he might be physically stronger than any of the Avengers, including the space god. And with the proper training…

 

But, as he’s often prone to do, he had a good idea and he took it too far. 

 

Ever since the day aliens started pouring from a hole in the sky, Tony’s been thinking more and more about contingency plans, because heaven knows he can’t keep this up forever. Something’s going to take him out of the game, whether it’s his choice or not. He programmed some protocols into F.R.I.D.A.Y., just in case things go south. The company and all his stocks go to Pepper. Happy gets a hefty check in the mail. Rhodey’s too prideful to accept money even from a dead man, but he does get all of Tony’s vintage and custom-made cars. The people he loves will be taken care of. 

 

But that’s not enough. Back when Tony was trapped in a terrorist cell, he promised himself that if given a second chance, he’d make sure to leave the world better than he found it. But the threats just keep coming, and the worst is still yet to come. Someone needs to be there to fight battles of tomorrow. At first he thought Ultron would be the solution, but after that fiasco, Tony’s accepted that heroes are still the world’s best shot.

 

But right now the team is in shambles and people trust them less every day. If the Avengers survives—and it needs to survive—its successor will have to be someone strong and smart and inspirational and  _ good _ . 

 

And for a split second, Tony was so blinded by his excitement at discovering this ridiculously superpowered kid who could be all of those things, that he forgot Peter Parker was  _ still just a kid _ .

 

He expected too much from him, too soon. He pulled the kid into Berlin before he was ready, and then when he realized his stupidity he backtracked and cut the kid off from the Avengers, but that was a mistake too and the kid almost got himself killed again. So Tony decided to bite the bullet and ask Peter to officially join the team. That way the kid would have a safe place to train, and Tony could really mentor him—properly this time.

 

He didn’t think overzealous, persistent, hero-worshipping Peter Parker would reject his offer.

 

The kid asked for space, and Tony’s been respecting that. Not to mention, when May Parker found out, she made it damn clear that Tony had crossed a major line with his involvement. So he’s taking a few steps back. But still, he can’t help but feel responsible for the kid. And not just because he’s swinging around every night literally dressed head to toe in Stark gear. 

 

When Tony gets an idea, it embeds itself in his brain and festers, until he gets it just right. It’s why he’s spent so many sleepless nights in the lab tweaking his armor. And maybe it’s why he can’t stop thinking about this would-be new recruit.

 

What Tony needs to do is find some middle ground. Keep an eye on the kid, but keep some distance. Prep him for the Avengers, but let him be a teenager. Be a mentor, but stay far, far, far away from father-figure territory. 

 

When he thinks about it like that, maybe the solution has been staring him in the face this entire time. For a brilliant man, he can be pretty stupid sometimes. 

 

“Fri, get Happy back on the line.”

 

***

 

It’s five minutes before the final bell when Peter’s phone screen lights up with a text from Happy Hogan. He clicks it open, slipping the phone off his desk and into his lap so Ms. Warren can’t see. 

 

_ Parked outside the school @ corner. Come out ASAP.  _

 

Shit. Peter hasn’t seen Happy in person since that day at the Avenger’s compound. He racks his brain for reasons he’d come all the way out to Queens personally. To take his suit away? To give him a mission? Both possibilities have his stomach doing flips. 

 

When the bell rings, Peter flings himself out of his seat and speeds through the halls, probably a little faster that a non-enhanced-individual could, hoping to beat the crowds before anyone sees the shiny black car parked along the curb. Happy Hogan is waiting at the wheel, wearing sunglasses and the ever-present scowl that Peter’s come to realize is just his resting face.

 

“Hey, Happy,” Peter says, slipping into the backseat and closing the door before anyone catches sight. Happy nods in the rear-view mirror and turns the keys in the ignition. “Uh, so… what’s up?”

 

“I’m hungry,” Happy says by way of greeting. “You want pizza? I’m in the mood for pizza.”

 

Peter wrings his hands together in his lap. “Yeah, yeah, pizza’s good. So what exactly are y—” 

 

With that, the divider goes up. Okay, so this is bad news, probably. 

 

Twenty minutes later, Peter finds himself sitting across from Happy in the back of Joe’s Pizzeria. On the table between them are four slices of pizza (one mushroom for Happy, three pepperonis for Peter), two sodas (diet for Happy, regular for Peter), a garlic knot (just for Peter, because Happy is “laying off the carbs”), and a manilla envelope (purpose unknown).

 

It’s the manilla envelope that has Peter sweating bullets. It looks important and official, two adjectives that Peter has never associated with anything good.

 

“So,” Happy begins, dabbing at his pizza with a napkin to absorb some of the oil. “Does 6PG-33G5 mean anything to you?”

 

“Uh...” Peter pauses, his slice halfway to his mouth. “What?”

 

Happy reaches for the manila envelope and opens it, pulling out a file. “Silver Toyota Prius,” he reads, “license plate number 6PG-33G5, parked beneath elevated 7-train line at 46th street and Queens Boulevard. Reported vandalized at 2:13 a.m. with dent to roof. Sound familiar yet?”

 

Peter drops his pizza back onto his plate, appetite gone. “Oh.” 

 

“Yeah,” Happy deadpans, pulling out another paper. “While we’re at it, how about this one? Thirty-two year old white male, found adhered to the door of his car outside his residence, claims he was assaulted by a masked perpetrator described as wearing red and blue spandex.” 

 

“Okay, that guy was trying to jimmy the window open with a coat hanger. What’s the likelihood that was his own car?” Peter gulps, realization dawning. “Wait, am I, like, wanted? Oh god, are you gonna arrest me, is that why you—”

 

“Slow your roll,” Happy interrupts, putting a hand up to stop him. “You’re not under arrest. Well, not yet at least.”

 

But Peter can’t stop the nervous babble spewing from his mouth. “Is Mr. Stark mad? ‘Cause I feel really, really bad about the car and that guy and the shed I broke—”

 

“I’m not here to get on your case because of a few minor flubs,” Happy interrupts, shoving the papers back into the manila folder and closing it. “For every report claiming Spiderman dented his car, there are ten more saying you stopped a mugging or rescued a kitten from a tree. You're doing alright, kid.”

 

“Oh-kayy…” Peter wishes he could see where this is going, but Happy’s perpetually-sullen expression is giving nothing away. 

 

“But I want you to understand,” Happy taps a finger against the envelope, “that what I see here is lack of control, plain and simple. No control, and people can get hurt.”

 

Peter slumps in his seat, mind racing. Last time Mr. Stark said something like this to him, he sent Peter home in hello-kitty pajama pants. “I know, I just… I’ve only had these powers for a few months. Please don’t take the suit away again, Happy. I promise I’m—”

 

“Kid.” Happy looks exasperated. “I’m not trying to throw you under the bus here. I’m trying to _explain_ to you why you need lessons.” 

 

Peter’s jaw unhinges. “Lessons? Like… you mean with Mr. Stark?” 

 

When Peter left the Avengers compound a few weeks ago, he’d assumed that would be for the first and last time. But now, just the thought of Mr. Stark inviting him back is enough to give him goosebumps. After all, Tony Stark and the Avengers had been the center of his fantasies for as long as he could remember. 

 

But then he recalls why he left the compound in the first place, and he deflates. “But nothing’s changed. I can’t be an Avenger.”

 

Happy nods.  “Look kid, Tony's a genius but sometimes he just sees in black and white. He wants to you to consider a real internship this time. No ultimatums.” 

 

Peter blinks, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But Happy just stares at him with the same grim expression. “Oh my… Are you… Are you  _ serious _ ?” 

 

“Do I not look serious?” Happy grimaces, then glances down at the table. “You haven’t even touched the pizza. Are you eating that? Because I paid for it.”

 

Peter grabs a slice and takes a huge bite. “Yeshh,” he says around a mouthful of pepperoni. “I mean, yes. Yeah, that sounds awesome.”

 

“Good. I'll let Tony know." 

 

Peter feels like he might be physically vibrating from the excitement. He takes a breath and tries to collect himself. If he's going to be Mr. Stark's intern, for real this time, then he's gotta play it professional. "Perfect. I'm definitely interested. So... When do you I start?"

 

Happy takes a long sip of his soda. "First, May’s gotta sign off on it.” 

  
Annnnd there's the other shoe.  _ Shit. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it. Let me know what you think?


	3. Part 3

Even though it’s probably for the best that May knows about Peter’s alter-ego now, he still can’t think about the day she found out without feeling queasy.

 

They’d screamed and cried for hours. (In retrospect, it’s amazing that none of their neighbors called the police to report a disturbance.) Finally, when their voices were raw and their faces swollen from the tears, May stopped responding and retreated to her room, locking the door behind her.

 

That had terrified Peter more than anything else, because May was not the silent type. She dealt with confrontation by getting in your face, prodding and goading until everything was laid out on the table. Especially after Ben died, she never liked for either of them to go to bed angry.

 

Peter went to his own room and somehow, despite all the fear and dread churning within him, physical exhaustion won out and he fell into a fitful sleep. He woke again sometime in the middle of the night to the sound of his doorknob being jostled. He lifted his head from his pillow and there was May, standing in the doorway in her pajamas, face wet and lips trembling. Wordlessly she came in and sat on his bed and scooped him into a fierce hug. He started to cry again, and so did she, and she smoothed his hair and hushed him and he pressed his nose into her clavicle and clung to her shoulders.

 

“I will _always_ love you,” she said.

 

“Me too.”

 

She pulled back so they could see each other's eyes. “I know why you didn’t tell me the truth. And you’re right—every bone in my body is telling me to stop you from doing this. You’re… you’re so _young_ , Peter. And if something happens to you… You can’t imagine how—”

 

“I _can_ imagine,” Peter said, voice cracking. “I know what it was like for you when Uncle Ben died.”

 

May closed her eyes briefly, face scrunching together like she was physically holding something back. “I never want to feel that way again. But that’s… that’s why... I’m not going to stop you.”

 

Peter stilled. “What?”

 

“I want so badly for you to be safe and healthy…” May brushed a stray curl from his forehead. “But what matters most is that we stay together. If I can’t stop you, then you have to promise, no more secrets.”

 

“I promise,” Peter replied without hesitation. His mind was whirling. In all the hundreds of times he’d imagined what would happen if he told May the truth, this scenario had never even occurred to him.

 

“I want to know everything, okay? That’s the deal.” May pulled him back against her chest and wrapped her arms around him. “I know you’re different now, but you’re still my kid.”

 

“I am,” Peter said. “And I really do promise.”

 

“Okay,” May whispered.

 

Peter could tell it was an uncomfortable truce for her. In the days that followed, the spoke a lot about everything that had happened since Peter’s field trip to Oscorp. May listened attentively and withheld any judgement, which was rare for her. And, really, Peter was just grateful not to be the subject of her understandable rage.

 

But all of that anger had just redirected itself at a new target: Tony Stark.

 

It hadn’t taken very long for May to connect the dots between Spiderman’s nightly heroics and his fancy new supersuit, and that one time a celebrity billionaire superhero knocked on her door and asked to take Peter on a weekend retreat.

 

‘Enabler’ was the word May kept calling Mr. Stark. He’d ‘enabled’ Peter by bringing him into a fight he had no nothing to do with, by presenting Peter with a weaponized suit and then letting him use it unsupervised, by not encouraging Peter—a minor—to tell the truth to his guardian.

 

“He acts like he’s some sort of public defender,” May had seethed, “and then he comes into my home, lies to my face, and kidnaps my underaged nephew. I could take him to court for this! He’s broken at least a handful of laws.”

 

“Oh my god.” Peter had moaned, slumped on the couch with his face in his hands. “We can’t sue Iron Man.”

 

But May _did_ manage to threaten Peter into turning over Happy Hogan’s number. And then she threatened Happy into turning over Tony Stark’s number. And then, despite Peter’s wails that this was the most humiliating thing to ever happen to him, May had called Mr. Stark, and Peter had to sit there at the kitchen table and listen in absolute horror to May’s half of the conversation (which was to say, basically all of the conversation, because Mr. Stark didn’t get many words in edgewise.)

 

So the premise of going to May now and asking for permission to train with Tony Stark is less than ideal. Which is why Peter decides to put it off until tomorrow. And then another day. And another.

 

He gets a text message from Happy on day four: _Status re: May?_

 

Peter sighs, tucking his phone back into his pocket. His relationship with May right now is delicate, to say the least, and this could be enough to tip it over the edge.

 

But he _really_ wants this internship. So he draws up every ounce of his courage—which is to say, he circles the block ten times, pulling at his hair and mumbling ‘come on, Spiderman’ repeatedly—before going up to his apartment, sitting May down at the kitchen table, and presenting her with the details of the offer.

 

May blinks at him, aghast. “You want me to invite that man back into our lives?”

 

“No! I mean, yes, kind of, but, uh…” Peter sputters. “Look, I know you don’t like him very much—”

 

“That’s putting it mildly,” May interrupts. “Why does it have to be  _this_ man? What about all the other heroes who haven’t walked into my home and lied to my face. I always knew you liked Iron Man as a child because of the tech and gadgets, but… _this_ is who you want as your role model? What about Captain America?”

 

“Well he’s an international war criminal now, so…”

 

“ _Why_ , Peter? Please explain this to me. I’m at a loss here.”

 

Peter twists his hands together in his lap, trying to conjure an explanation. To be honest, he’s not even sure himself. Of course, Iron Man has always been his childhood hero. But then he actually met him, saw the man’s bruised face and ego after Berlin, saw the mistakes he’s made, and how he’s still trying to set them right.

 

He takes a deep breath and looks her in the eye. “May, Mr. Stark's really not the bad guy here. I was doing this for months before he even showed up. He just gave me the suit to keep me safer. And after everything that happened, he could have cut me out and never contacted me again. But he didn’t do that. "

 

May considers that for a moment, but then her eyes go steely again. "That doesn't excuse all the lies." 

 

Maybe Peter can change May's mind about Tony Stark eventually, but not today. When she gets like this, he might as well be arguing with a brick wall. So he changes his approach. "I need help, May. I’ve got these powers and I still don’t know what to do with them. Sometimes I feel like I can’t even control them, and I’m afraid I’m going to hurt someone. I don’t know who else I can go to. I need help and he’s offering it. So... I want to say yes.”

 

May presses her fingers against her lips. “You feel like you’re going to hurt someone?”

 

“No… I mean, not on purpose. I don’t know…”

 

“What you’re asking…” She drops her head into her hands. “You’ve already stretched me so thin. I feel like I'm going to break in half.”

 

“I know.” And he tries to convey just how much his means it when he adds, “I’m sorry.”

 

She shakes her head, still not lifting it. “Would you even listen if I said no? I feel like a nonentity here… It doesn’t matter what I say.”

 

He gets up and walks to her side of the table. Then he lays a hand on her shoulder, feeling her warmth and her steady pulse and her quiet breaths. “You matter more than anyone. But please just... trust me about this?”

 

May exhales, and then she lets go of her face so she can place her hand on top of his. “I want to talk to him first. And I need to see where you’ll be training.”

 

Dread is replaced with elation. “Yes! Yeah, of course. Anything, May. I’ll tell Happy right now and he can—”

 

“Tomorrow, Peter.” May stands up, rubbing at her temple. “Right now, you’re going to do your homework in your room quietly, and I’m going to sit here with a glass of wine and pretend I still have a shred of my dignity.”

 

***

 

Tony’s stood in front of thousands of reporters, been summoned into court meetings, spoken to the President of the United States, but no one has ever set him on edge quite as much as May Parker. Every time they make eye contact he feels like she’s willing him to spontaneously combust. So he stands in a corner and lets F.R.I.D.A.Y. do the talking as the Parkers become acquainted with the amenities of the Avengers’ training facilities.

 

He’s just glad to have gotten them here in the compound. When days went by without Peter’s final response to his offer, he’d just about driven himself mad, until he finally prodded Happy to check in on the situation. Then Peter replied with the good news, and Tony could finally release the breath he’d been holding.

 

He just wishes he’d had the forethought to make sure Pepper was here too. Pepper’s the likable one, the empathetic one, and most importantly, May doesn’t have any beef with her.

 

Peter doesn’t seem to notice the giant elephant in the room. He’s darting around the space like a bunny on drugs, looking at the wires behind computers, lifting weights (250 pounds like it’s a q-tip), stomping on the ground to test the springy floors, and at one point crawling onto the ceiling to see where F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice is projecting from.

 

“Hey, I think I found you,” Peter says, poking at a tiny slit in the ceiling that usually goes unnoticed.

 

“I am an incorporeal digital interface,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. tries to explain uselessly.

 

“This kid doesn’t come with an off switch, does he?” Tony jokes to May, attempting to slice through the tension with a quip, since that usually works.

 

Her lips honest-to-god twitch, like she’s tempted to smile, but the expression’s gone in a flash. “He’s always been curious,” she answers. “His father was a brilliant biologist, you know. Peter takes after him.”

 

Tony does know about this, actually. Delicate topics have never been his speciality, but he gets the feeling that May is looking for an opportunity to talk about it, so he gives her an opening. “That must have been rough, when they died.”

 

May shoots him a sideways glance, still mostly watching Peter’s antics. “It was excruciating, dealing with their deaths. But Peter was never a burden. He’s such a...” She pauses, and then she actually _does_ crack a small smile. “I was about to say he’s such an easy child. Up until a month ago that was true. He’s so sweet and kind, and great in school. Kids are supposed to be moody and bratty but he never was. I guess this is my comeuppance for getting off easy all these years.”

 

Tony feels something heavy sitting in the pit of his stomach. “He’s a really good kid,” he says, trying to somehow let that sentence encompass all of the regret and shame and gratitude and hope he’s felt about Peter Parker, and knowing it will come up short.

 

May’s lashes flutter, and with a pang of horror Tony realizes her eyes are getting glassy. “I’m so proud of him. I mean, I’m still furious, but I think maybe I’m furious _because_ I’m proud of him. He got these powers, and most people would use them for fame or money or to get back at bullies, and he just uses them to help people have a better day. Who does that?”

 

That’s exactly why he was initially drawn to Peter, Tony wants to say. But telling May about his distant ambitions for Peter to one day be the next face of the Avengers doesn’t feel like a good topic of conversation at this very moment. God, he wishes Pepper were here to swoop in and say all the right things.

 

Luckily, he’s saved by the Energizer Bunny, who’s found the on-switch for the holographic combat trainer. “I can’t believe you’ve got VR holo-displays hooked up in here! That’s cutting edge tech!”

 

“Just a prototype,” Tony says, glad to be transitioning back to his native language. “Still working out the kinks. I can show you the code sometime if that kind of stuff doesn’t bore you stiff.”

 

“Are you freaking kidding me?!”

 

“Language, Peter!” May scolds.

 

“Sorry,” Peter responds immediately, sounding more like it’s a force of habit than an actual apology.

 

“So this is it?” May says, turning to face Tony completely. “He comes here twice a week and...?”

 

“Does Zumba,” he quips, but when May doesn’t crack a smile, he amends, “Okay, weak joke. He’ll work on controlling his strength. Basic weight training, hand-to-hand, whatever he needs to protect himself.”

 

“No strings attached?”

 

“No strings,” he reassures. “Just simple training tutorials here in the facilities, until he’s more comfortable with his abilities. That’s it.”

 

“Well... I guess I don’t see a problem with that,” she says, sounding almost regretful about it. “So… fine. I’ll sign off on it.”

 

“Great,” Tony says. “Looking forward to it. This will be good for Peter.”

 

May nods, and shouts across the room for her nephew. “Honey, it’s time to get going.”

 

Peter misses a jab from the holo-trainer and the virtual arm goes straight through his chest. He harmlessly walks through it and sprints over to wear Tony and May are standing, eyes darting back and forth between them.

 

“Is everything okay?” he asks. He doesn’t look the slightest bit anxious, and that makes Tony wonder just how good the kid’s hearing is.

 

“I told Tony I’m okay with this internship, alright?” May tells him. “Now we should head out. It’s still laundry day, and I’ve seen the state of your hamper. I think your dirty socks are starting to give birth to even dirtier socks.”

 

“Um, May,” Peter half-whispers, looking absolutely scandalized. “Could you maybe _not_ talk about my dirty socks in front of Iron Man?”

 

“It’s all natural, kid.” He smiles easily at them. “Happy will drive you wherever you need to go.”

 

They walk together to the lobby of the compound, Peter filling the silence with his observations about the holo-projector (some of them actually intriguing thoughts that Tony will consider later.) He’s oddly grateful for the kid’s chattiness today.

 

May places a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Can you run ahead to the car?” she tells him. “I just want a second with Mr. Stark.”

 

Peter shoots Tony a horrified expression, which reaffirms what Tony's already assumed: this is not going to end well for him. The kid does as he's told and Tony watches, trapped, as his last pubescent hope run off toward the car, leaving him alone Darth May.

 

May faces him, determined but not irate. “Why did you pick Peter?” she asks.

 

Tony pauses, uncertain. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

 

“Why Peter? There are vigilantes cropping up all across the country. Why did you choose my kid?”

 

Damn, this woman knows how to cut right into the main artery of an issue. She’d make a formidable match for Pepper. “I first caught wind of him through some YouTube videos. He's immensely powerful, but inexperienced. This is the safest place in the world for him to train.”

 

“That’s not what I asked.”

 

“I…” Tony begins, but trails off, not sure how to finish the thought. He may only have one shot to get this right. “May, I feel horrible for how I handled things when we first met, and you were right about everything you said. But I really do think this is the best place for Peter. I know I can help him.”

 

“Good,” she says. “But that still doesn’t answer why you sought Peter out in the first place, over everyone else. Why are you doing this?”

 

Tony runs a hand over his goatee. May's prodding at something he hasn't wanted to admit, even to himself. His brain is screaming fight or flight; flight is currently winning, his reflexes gearing up to high-tail it from the room. If he did, May would probably never be able to find him. This place is like a labyrinth.

 

But Tony’s an adult (he keeps actively reminding himself), so he racks his brain for the proper response to May’s question, and stumbles upon the answer at the same time as he says it aloud. “He’s innocent.”

 

The words startle him a bit, and he can see that May is surprised by them too, so he clears his throat and attempts to clarify. “He’s like… me, before I got it all wrong. I’ve been spending my whole life trying to make up for my mistakes, and he’s fifteen and he’s already doing everything right. So… that’s why, I guess.”

 

May closes her eyes and lets out a long, resigned breath. Not for the first time, Tony thinks that she’s an attractive woman, and too young to be an aunt, or a mother to a fifteen-year-old.

 

"That's what I was afraid of," she mutters. Tony has no idea to what that means. She blinks her eyes open and sends him a piercing look, sharp enough to kill. "Peter's my whole world. One wrong move, and I’ll find a way to make you regret it.”

 

“I understand.” He means it.

 

 “And make sure he eats something when he’s here."  The corner of her lip suddenly quirks. "His appetite has gone through the roof. At first I thought it was just a teenager thing, but I’m going to need to take out a second mortgage soon just to pay for groceries.”

 

He smirks. "Oh, we're plenty used to that around here. We literally have the kitchen stocked for a small army."

 

May moves towards the door, but Tony beats her and holds it open for her. A little chivalry never hurt. "Thanks for coming all the way out here."

 

"Sure." She pauses one last time. "And... I should say thank you too. For everything."

 

He stares at her, baffled, but May just takes off towards the car, scooting into the backseat beside Peter, who's been pressed up against the window trying to see. Happy shoots Tony a salute, and then the black car speeds away, whisking the Parkers back to Queens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited to start writing Tony and Peter hanging out together, but I also had a lot of fun writing May. Hope you enjoyed. Thank you for all of the sweet comments last chapter--they really motivated me to keep writing and I finished this in a day! (Don't tell my boss I was writing fanfiction at work...)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks guys! Let me know how you like it so far? This will be a short story. It's been bouncing around in my head for a while. Next chapter to come shortly.


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